Mother Hoodlum: Drunks and Debauchery

My friend Jessi called me up and invited me along to a hip shindig down at the ol' Fenix. Her friend, Erin, is part of the Burning Hearts Burlesque group, and they were putting on a show at the In the Bedroom night there. Me, Jessi, and whoever else she could round up were to be potential 'Pin-up Girls' for their photoshoots. To me, it sounded like a great excuse to get all kinds of gussied up and have a nice little time with some chicks I completely dig.
So, I put on my swankiest negligee, the preferred attire for the evening, and even curled my hair. I know, a rare moment indeed for this shlep-happy momma. Jess looked just ridiculously cute, as did our friends Annie and Sabrina. I swear, Annie can look damn hot for a pregnant gal, it is just soooo not fair. As I shook off my jealousy (remember, I was akin to a water buffalo at only three months), I delighted in Sabrina's naughty school-girl/punky princess attire. Now these are my kinda people!
We did our photo thang, which I am telling you, can make any woman feel like hot shit! I can't remember the last time a photographer was smiling at me, and it felt goooooooood. The show was awesome, too, if you are a towny I highly suggest you check it out. They actually go with the old school homage, which is quite refreshing. It's not just a bunch of skinny goth chicks in corsets shaking it to modern tunes. These women are curvy, with a capital C, and are every inch beautiful for it. They are the real sexy, in my opinion. And they have obviously done their homework, and their act harkens back to the Betty Page era, complete with singers and group choreography. The best part, by far, was their Belly Dancer. Not only is she perfectly soft in ALL the right places, she has definitely got the skills.
Anyhoot, that's the debauchery part. I know, not that naughty by my former standards, but hey, I was wearing fishnets! Onto the drunks...and of course, my recquired dosage of ranting...
We were off in the corner near the photographers, for the most part, which was fine with me. Honestly, the club is a mix of all walks, and half of them are not shoes I wanna be near. There were a few goths, albeit only there for the show. This skinny greaseball who was sporting the wanna-be Gavin Rosedale look (and a very cheap black suit with a red shirt, tacky!), kept giving me the eyeball, which I promptly dodged. He eventually found me, and asked me to dance, while putting his letchy little hand on my shoulder. I shuddered away from him and shook my head, pointing to the photography area, hoping he'd assume I'd me tied up the rest of the night. He bowed away in that stupid, "I am such a gothy gentleman" act, and I quickly skittered off for cover in the group of gals who were waiting for a spot in line. I finished the whole shoot thing, and confined myself to the back hallway shortly after Annie and Sabrina had left for the night. Jessi was my ride, and we wanted to watch the rest of the show, and still mingle a bit more. She was pulled off by one of the roller-derby folks (more on that later), so I contented myself during the intermission by chatting up a few of the other models and photo-folk. It felt nice being social again! Unfortunately, I was left alone for all of two seconds when the drunken twerp returned. I could almost hear the bell sound DING! Round Two! He introduced himself, sticking out that dirty little paw of his again. I didn't take it, and gave him a fake name and the cold shoulder. Undeterred, our Hero of the Hideous began waxing poetic about my looking "On the edge...kinda fifties-like, yet modern" Oh, be still my tender heart at his eloquence...what, pretell, will this genius assualt my delicate being with next? Apparently, he was finally picking up on my complete and utter lack of interest, which I displayed by staring off blankly into the distance. This was of course, only punctuated by an icey stare of horror if his body got too close to breaking my personal bubble of space. As he stumbled off, he turned back around, and delivered what was obviously his best line...
"I saw you from a thousand miles away, baby!" With a bizarre disco point to the heavens. I held up my left hand, wriggling my ring finger, and responded "Yeah, so did my husband". I know, not the best delivery I've ever had, but I was a bit flustered at his weirdness. Even the two gentlemen standing between us during that little witty repartee had to burst into laughter. They turned and repeated "a thousand miles, baby!" obviously delighting in their fellow gents poor taste in pickup lines. One mentioned, "I bet he was saving that one all night for ya".
So, I do ask myself, and you readers, why do men think these types of encounters could possibly result in anything? If I get an I saw U for this one, I will fall onto myself.
Anyhoo, since I am a photo-luvin' kinda whore, I will leave you with the evidence of our escapades. Enjoy!
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